


Kindness doesn't cost anything

by Tilperiel



Series: Silver & Gold [10]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Gen, Gondolin, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilperiel/pseuds/Tilperiel
Summary: It doesn't do to judge others by your own standards, if your own standards involve looking down on people.Written for Day 4 of Gondolin Week





	Kindness doesn't cost anything

“Ouch! Be more careful will you!”

“Sorry, I just, if I could-“

“OUCH!”

Salgant glared at his squire who paled and swallowed, holding himself very tense as he waited for the berating that was most likely coming his way. He was inwardly cursing the others who’d conveniently found other jobs to busy themselves with, leaving just himself to dress their lord ready for that morning. There was an event to attend and ceremonial armour was required. 

However, it seemed that Salgant had _grown_ slightly since the last time his was worn. He didn’t ordinarily wear armour if he could help it, hating the tight fit and he tended to sweat profusely beneath it. Most unbefitting of someone in his standing. 

“Come on man, get on with it. I haven’t got all day!”

“Yes my lord,” his squire muttered and with a slight hesitation tried once more to get the buckle to meet with the pin, tugging at it to no avail. 

“May I make a suggestion?” he asked, fairly certain it was going to get him yelled at some more, but his fingers were hurting with the effort of pulling on the few pieces he’d managed and the breast-plate was clearly having none of it. 

“You may,” Salgant said in a dangerous, low tone, narrowing his eyes.

“Perhaps, my lord, you would consider foregoing your gambeson? It’s a very hot day and I’m certain it would be much more comfortable for you to have a simple vest and trousers. I can perhaps place some layers around those areas that might rub.”

He held his breath and hoped to Eru he would buy into it, for Salgant must have realised by this point that his situation was hopeless. 

There was a beat of silence and Salgant huffed shortly.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get these off so as I can get out of it then. I don’t wish to be late.”

* * *

It was a slightly red-faced Lord of the Harp who joined the rest of them in the square and there were more than a few poorly hidden coughs of laughter at his appearance. He was still rather squeezed into his suit as it was, even without the padding beneath and he glared at anyone who even dared to glance at him in the wrong way. 

Which happened to be most of the other lords, none of whom cared a jot.

When the ceremony ended he breathed a sigh of relief, planning on getting back to his house as quickly as he could and changing for the evening’s festivities. His formal clothing, at least, didn’t have him turned into a laughing stock, he thought as he stepped down. Turgon approached him however before he could make his escape. 

“Salgant? A word please.” 

He froze for a split second, painted a smile on his face and turned to the king, bowing his head. “Of course your highness, how may I be of service?” 

Turgon raised a single brow, nodded towards the tower and started walking towards it at a brisk pace, Salgant following after with as much dignity as he could muster, deliberately avoiding catching anyone’s eye on the way.

* * *

So it was that the following afternoon found him hovering outside the entrance to the forge-house that belonged to the lord of the Hammer. He could hear voices inside; loudly calling to one another between the ringing of metal on metal and the whoosh of the bellows. The heat of the place was blasting him even out in the open. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and grimaced uncomfortably, not at all pleased with being there, but he really hadn’t been given a choice. 

He’d never once in all his years of living in Gondolin visited the blacksmith’s district, preferring to have them come to him for any fittings and the like. He looked about the yard now and folded his arms, wrinkling his nose slightly at just how much dust and dirt there was.

“Lord Salgant! I take it you’re here to see lord Rog? Come on over and I’ll take you to him right away.”

He didn’t have time to say anything as one of the members of Rog’s household spotted him and strode off without waiting for an answer. Salgant had no other choice but to go in with him, albeit with an amount of trepidation. He straightened his sleeves and put his shoulders back in an attempt to appear confident, giving him an air of superiority.

Most of the elves who were working had bare arms and some bared chests too; streaked with black and glistening with perspiration. Many had shorn their hair shorter, similar to their lord, or had it pinned back diligently whilst they worked at the forges and tables. He knew what they all thought of him, he heard the whispers wherever he went and he sucked in his stomach surreptitiously beneath the cummerbund he wore. Yet, not one of the faces that turned to see who it was that passed wore anything but small smiles of greeting or polite nods, which had him feeling wary and confused.

“Rog! Lord Salgant’s here to see you!” 

The person who’d brought him in called over so casually that Salgant just stared, very much expecting some kind of retribution being forthcoming. He would never have stood for someone addressing him that way, _especially_ in front of another lord, but Rog simply smiled and put down his tools, wiped his hands on an oil-cloth and walked over to him.

“Salgant! What a surprise! What brings you here?”

Salgant blinked, looking for some sarcasm and frowned when he couldn’t find any. Rog’s smile looked entirely too genuine and he didn’t know how to react. Best to get the whole thing over with, he thought; it was going to be humiliating enough and he didn’t want it any more drawn out than it needed to be.

“My armour,” he said, meeting Rog’s eyes, “I’ve come to see about an upgrade. To the latest style. I noticed how the other lords had somewhat different designs to mine and I wouldn’t want to be behind the times.”

Rog raised his brows, opened his mouth then closed it again with a nod. He looked Salgant over with an appraising eye and Salgant withstood the scrutiny as well as he might; doing his best not to give in to the urge to bring his hands together over his chest, where his long sleeves might cover his torso.

He’d fully expected some kind of cutting remark. Some comments on his appearance and possibly laugher too. He braced for it now, telling himself that others were simply not as sophisticated as he was and there was so much more to life than running around like a fool and working up a sweat. _Eru gave his gifts so that they could be enjoyed_ he was fond of saying and if gaining arms such as lord Rog’s meant working all day in the heat of the forges and getting so filthy in the process, he didn’t deem it worth the trouble.

“Come by my house tomorrow and I’ll have you measured up. I can probably have some designs drawn up in the next week for you to look over and choose from. If that’s alright?”

Salgant gaped openly and now Rog _did_ laugh, though it wasn’t unkind.

“Not expecting that answer, were you?” he asked with a wry smile.

“I was not,” Salgant admitted and now did raise his hands, clasping them about his wrists. He was somewhat at a loss, having fully prepared himself for defence and now that none of his carefully thought up replies to imagined slights were needed, he didn’t really know what to say.

Rog however was as relaxed as ever and simply shrugged and smiled, turning to pick up the tools on his table again.

“What are you making?” Salgant asked, curiosity piqued now that he realised he wasn’t about to be mocked or otherwise.

“A dagger,” Rog said and held it up. A Leaf shaped blade that he was carefully etching with runes on the centre line. Quite delicate and fine work.

Salgant stepped closer to inspect it and hummed thoughtfully. “A nice size and shape, very aesthetically pleasing,” he said, “how much for it?”

Rog huffed, amused and Salgant looked up at him, instantly tensing for some derisive remark.

“It’s not for sale. This is a commission, specially designed. I could make you another though, something to suit.”

“Oh, well, yes. Yes, that would be-“ 

Salgant was bereft of his usual bluster, Rog’s straightforwardness putting him right out of sorts. Before he knew it, he found himself leaving the forge having commissioned not only a new set of armour but a new dagger too.

* * *

Head held high, Salgant walked down past his peers who were stood out in their finery, house crests emblazoned on banners held behind them and his own squire carrying the heraldry of The Harp as he walked at his side.

He found his place next to Egalmoth and the Lord of the Arch nodded in greeting. 

“Ah, new armour I see!” Egalmoth remarked, “very nice!”

Salgant looked at him and searched for the hidden slight, not used at all to receiving _actual_ compliments. Egalmoth smiled back, a little bemused and then nodded to Rog who had also arrived.

“Lord Egalmoth, Lord Salgant.” Rog took his place too, shining and resplendent in his own arms. 

Salgant went automatically to clasp his wrists, fingers tightening as he lowered his hands when he remembered he wasn’t wearing his customary robe. 

Rog looked at him and raised a brow, but before he could say anything Turgon stepped out on the balcony before them and silence descended on the gathered crowd.

A glance down the line and Salgant pursed his lips. No-one had laughed at him so far today and more than a few people, some very unexpected, had actually been _nice_. 

“Thank you,” he whispered from the side of his mouth and from the corner of his eye he saw Rog break out in a grin.

“My pleasure.”


End file.
